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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940276">The Skins of Grapes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/batsaboutbats/pseuds/batsaboutbats'>batsaboutbats</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Jaytim - Freeform, M/M, Sizeplay, beastiality, keep an eye on tags, magical mishaps, monster fucking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:34:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/batsaboutbats/pseuds/batsaboutbats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason gets drunk and loses his legs, but fortunately Tim comes to the rescue! Magical mayhem ensues.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Skins of Grapes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’m not drunk enough for this…” He griped, sprawled among the splinters of the innocent bar stool he’d previously parked his ass on. He was drunk, but he hadn’t drank nearly enough to get intoxicated to the levels of hallucinations he was having. It had to be a rogue spiking the taps in all the dive bars in Gotham. Probably Scarecrow, he was stupid enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of stupid, he lamented the loss of his seat. It hadn’t been comfortable but it had been sturdy and clean. Not a single booger or wad of chewing gum was crusted under the edge of the seat. That was about as hard to find in these parts like bumping into a mentally sound Gotham resident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How Jason ended up here was testament to his own stupidity but sue him, this place was right up his alley. The sign out front had drawn him in because it was amusing and reminiscent of the Old Gotham retro style he was a sucker for. On the side of the rundown brick building was a gaudy sculpture of a Satyr in a wine glass sporting a massive erection. It’s dick waved back and forth merrily at passersby while above </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Bacchus</span>
  </em>
  <span> glowed in ominous red neon lettering. The light cast the entire sign in a devilish veil and how it got past new city zoning laws was beyond him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More importantly Jason liked this bar and that was his </span>
  <em>
    <span>favorite chair</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Someone was going to pay for this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He struggled to stand up, stumbling like a newborn foal. He seemed to have spouted an extra set of legs which was impeding him, not to mention he’d gained at least a few hundred extra pounds as well. He fell flat on his face, something sticky smearing over his cheek that smelled suspiciously like chewing tobacco. He pushed himself back up with his hands, looking over his shoulder blearily to take in the damage. His legs were his best feature and he wanted to weep when he saw what replaced them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, I’m a freak!” He wailed, wobbling out of the bar, breaking chairs and knocking over tables as he went. Patrons dove out of his way, screaming. But it was Gotham and it was the wrong side of the tracks, so nobody bothered to call the cops when they realized he was hastily making his exit. Gotham was just like that sometimes. They’d probably seen weirder last week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only when he was in the alley a few streets over that he actually began to cry for real, because he had no clue what to do. He needed backup but Roy was off planet with Starfire, and Artemis was only God knows where. He had no way to contact either of them, which meant his only other option was to call... Maybe he could manage. It couldn’t be that bad right? Surely he could live with a few extra appendages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slumped over in a puddle and sighed. There was no way he could even get through the doorway to his safe house, much less walk down the street inconspicuously. Forget trying to bust up crime, he’d be lucky to make it two more blocks without being caught. He was glad he’d had the sense of mind to put his phone in his jacket, because his pants had disappeared somewhere in the middle of all this nonsense.  Scrolling through the contact list he bypassed several of the coded names, not bothering to even think about the ones labeled </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy Issues</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy Long Legs</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They were his last resort.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Car-seat French Fry</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a big fat nope of the highest degree. He almost scrolled past </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yum!</span>
  </em>
  <span> but thought the better of it. He mulled over the possibilities. On the one hand, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yum!</span>
  </em>
  <span> was nothing if not dependable. They also weren’t a snitch despite the numerous times Jason had screwed them over. On the other hand, they were working with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy Long Legs</span>
  </em>
  <span> so even if they didn’t kiss and tell it wasn’t a guarantee someone wouldn’t find out by being invasive of people’s privacy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumbling at his lack of options, Jason punched in the code for SOS and hit send. He didn’t know how long </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yum! </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be, but in the meantime he could try and learn how to walk again.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later, Red Robin landed on a fire escape above and then dropped down into the alley beside him. Jason had long since given up, legs sore and ego bruised from the amount of times he’d stumbled in potholes and tripped over garbage cans. Walking had also been noisy affair, each step clicking obnoxiously to announce his every move. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to smother the sound. <br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the…?” Red Robin rubbed his hand over his cowl, as if he meant to rake fingers through his hair. “Jason??”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s me.” Jason snapped crankily, folding his arms as he leaned against the brick wall of a dirty building. He had managed to curl up the bulk of his new form neatly, but he was still taking up an obnoxiously large amount of space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Tim came closer, lips twitching. He reached out a gloved hand and pressed it over the line of his back. Jason growled when the vigilante began to pat him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I knew, I wouldn’t have called you.” He swatted away his hand. “Stop that, I’m not a fucking pony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’d say you’re more a Clydesdale really.” Tim’s voice trembled as he admirably withheld his laughter. He pulled a device from his belt and pressed a few buttons, presumably calling the Bat Plane to their location. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hell,” Jason glowered at his back end, displeased. This wasn’t how he wanted to spend his night off, getting poked, prodded and laughed at for being careless. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t even know who or what had caused this. Tim bit his lip harder and looked away when the imperceptible hum of the jet drew near.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you stand?” He asked, holding out his hand as if he could help him up by sheer will power alone. Jason ignored the offering, heaving himself to his feet unsteadily. Tim’s head tilted back, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Uhm…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you look like a fucking Hobbit down there.” Jason squinted, planting his hands on his new hip line. It felt weird, feeling fur where skin should be. The dark coat wasn’t even sleek, wiry and a little bit puffy instead. He stamped his foot impatiently, the white fringe dusting above his new hooves getting dingier by the second from the grime off the streets. If he couldn't turn back to normal, he might be able to make this work, he reasoned. He felt like a titan, towering over the little people. He was willing to bet if he kicked a criminal he could cave their skulls in easily. Yeah, all he had to do was make a few adjustments to his costume. A crime fighting centaur wouldn't be the strangest thing seen in Gotham before. <br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim made a soft noise that wasn’t as much a protest as it was an exclamation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jason</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Tim managed to squeak out, lifting his cape to shield them from the road. Not that there were many sober people wandering the streets this late to spot them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Jason scowled, affronted. “What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim made a garbled noise and gestured frantically to his withers. Jason craned his head to see what the big deal was and his eyes nearly fell out of his head when he saw what Tim was spazzing about. It <em>was </em></span>
  <span>a big problem. He felt his face turn hot in humiliation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He pranced in place for a moment, his tail snapping wildly from side to side in consternation. He hadn’t even noticed, hell he hadn’t popped a boner this easily since he was in the scaly shorts. “What the fuck,” He couldn’t hide it no matter how he twisted and turned and they both began to panic when it just got</span>
  <em>
    <span> bigger</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop moving!” Tim cried, slapping the remote control for the jet. It appeared from the dismal skyline and landed in the middle of the street, startling some drunk men back onto the sidewalk. In a fit of genius, Tim yanked off his cape and draped it over Jason’s back. It was long enough to hang down and hide most of the problem, but now Jason was beginning to </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, what are we gonna do?” He hissed as they hurried to the plane, Jason all but leaping into the back hatch where they had a cargo hold. Tim climbed in after him, before heading up to the controls to set the autopilot for take off. <br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We??? There is no </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- maybe it’ll go away on its own?” Tim said faintly, pushing back his cowl. He was blushing darkly, hair mussed hopelessly and Jason thought he looked suspiciously out of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right sure, tell that to it. It fucking hurts!” Jason complained, shifting uncomfortably. He looked around the hold, not really sure what he was looking for. Another cape? An ice pack? Anything, he was getting desperate. Like most of their vehicles, the cargo was sleek and organized-- practically empty save for a few parachutes and medical kits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jason spotted Tim inputting the coordinates for the bat cave he nearly abandoned ship, hung like a horse or not. He was not going back </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> with his dick hanging out and he told him so. Tim edged further into the cockpit, glancing back at him timidly to avoid seeing anything inappropriate again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim, you gotta help me,” He pleaded. “C’mon. It won’t take long. I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think??” Tim squeaked. “N-No way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I’ll owe you a favor. Please? I can’t exactly reach it and I am not facing Batman like this.” He slowly knelt, carefully arranging himself to rest on his side. Tim hesitated. He was probably going to regret this but Tim probably would too. “Name your price. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll do anything.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim stood there for several long minutes as the plane got to altitude, chewing his bottom lip and cheeks distractedly pink. It could have been worse, Jason thought. He could have been stuck with Damian who would have probably cut it off without warning. Tim wasn't half bad looking and there were far worse people he could ask. The awkwardness aside, it could be nice even.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A date.” Tim averted his eyes, swallowing thickly in the white noise between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason’s brows rose. He was expecting something impossible like <em>no killing</em>, or <em>get out of Gotham</em>. Still, he had to be sure.<br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like take-you-out kind of date? Or the dried fruit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take me out to dinner, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>barbarian</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Tim's gaze snapped right back to him in a scathing glare. “If I’m going to give you a handy I deserve to be treated right, don’t you think?” Jason twitched, his newly improved appendage slapping up against his furry belly with an audible thump. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I think I can do that.” He croaked, watching Tim come round to kneel beside him. “Pick you up at 8?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Bacchus</span>
  </em>
  <span> had a two for one special on hot wings every Wednesday.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Federally Mandated Writing Challenge on my friends discord server. :) Heavily edited and rewritten now, I feel better about sharing it with the public at large.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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